Blame It On The Alcohol
by closetromantic07
Summary: Seven drinks. Six attempts. One overdue confession. [Joshaya one-shot]


Hello! It's me again. Hope you enjoy this little one shot, nothing too serious, just some writing fun. Been in a rut lately and suddenly got the drive to start writing again. Preparing a chapter for "How to Parent" (for those who follow that) too, so yay! I do hope you enjoy and leave a little of your thoughts for me, if it's not too much trouble!

* * *

**Blame It On The Alcohol**

Seven drinks. Six attempts. One overdue confession.

* * *

**BEER**

He was 21 and she was in high school.

Joshua Matthews just turned 21, and the family celebrations were in full blast in his brother's New York apartment rooftop. His father and mother drove up with his only sister to celebrate with him, while his eldest brother made sure that he was in the city for the shebang. The youngest Matthews sibling brought along his college friends for the casual get together while his niece brought along her crew she seems to always tag along. Not that this was Josh's first time to drink, even in front of his family. Beer seemed just about appropriate for a celebratory night with a mix of young friends and older family. And seeing as how he can't legally be prevented from drinking, he took it upon himself to truly enjoy the fermented beverage.

"Congratulations, Boing," he hears a voice say as he stood behind the brick wall keeping him from falling off the building, overlooking the Big Apple's skyline. There's only one person who ever calls him that silly nickname he can barely remember how he got, so it doesn't surprise him to see a head full of vibrant blonde to his side. She gives him a slight nudge before leaning back against the same wall. "Enjoy full legality!"

He was sure he was buzzed because he can't help but wonder if her smile had always so gorgeously cheeky.

"Maya," he breathes turning his body to face her, giving her a once over. "You look…"

There was a pause where he considers telling her the truth, just as he did all those years ago, but she beat him to it.

"Gorgeous?"

And there it goes again – that cheeky smile seemed to be plastered on her face. It was a good thing he was drinking beer all night, at least the flushed color on his face can be blamed on the alcohol, and she'll never prove otherwise.

"You look nice," he says, recovering.

"Don't hold back on the compliments there, Matthews," she laughs.

He rolls his eyes as he takes another sip of his emptying bottle.

"You enjoying?"

She shrugs, letting her elbows rest on brick surface. "I mean, I've been to cooler parties. Yours is okay, I guess."

When she turns her head to give him a smug look, it was then that he got a good look at her cerulean eyes. He wonders if it's always been as blue as it was that night, or if the moon just has some weird power of making everything look better under its light. And it really must be the beer, because he starts to say, "Your eyes, have they always been so…"

"Gorgeous?" she offers again, with a raised eyebrow.

But it wasn't enough to make him too honest. "Blue."

She bites her lips, trying to hold back laughter. "So you just don't like complementing me now?" With that, she gives him a coy grin, picking up the cans of beer she placed on the ground which he didn't notice.

"Thanks for these, by the way," she gives him a wink before walking off to be with her Riley and the others, over at a table on the other side of the rooftop.

He won't tell her until months after, what he really thought that night.

* * *

**VODKA**

He doesn't know which shot did it for him, but he was long gone after the sixth one.

"I LOVE YOU, NEW YORK!" he screams from the rooftop of the Minkus' penthouse suite. "I LOVE YOU!"

There's a pull that causes him to jump down from the brick railing that separates the rooftop from a plunge down the city's sidewalk.

"Are you insane?" yells a voice. "Are you trying to get yourself killed at our graduation party just to declare your love to the city, Uncle Josh?"

"No," he answers, wobbling to stand. "Drunk, yes."

"We can see that, Boing," laughs another voice.

"ONE MORE ROUND," he yells and the young brunette rolls her eyes. "COME ON, GIRLS. ONE MORE ROUND. VODKA! VODKA!"

His chants were starting to get traction as Zay joins in on the fun, followed by an inebriated Farkle who was already wearing his necktie around his head, and some other friends who came to celebrate. Riley was pulled into the mobile bar by Lucas, who knew to only give her some fruity cocktail with barely any alcohol.

Josh was just about to follow suit until he felt a pullback around his neck as if he was on a leash. It was Maya who pulled his collar.

"OW!"

"No more shots for you," she chides him.

It was rare for her to see him with all his inhibitions gone, including his instinctive need to be the responsible, older one and make sure that they weren't getting themselves into a load of trouble. It was quite fun seeing him like that.

"MAYA!"

Except the shouting.

"WOO! COME ON, TONIGHT IS A NIGHT OF CELEBRATIONS!"

"Stop shouting!"

"You wanna know a secret?" he whispers this time, and it amazes her how he quickly shifts into different states of merriness whilst inebriated.

"Oh yeah?" she challenges. "You finally gonna admit you're in love with me?"

"Maya," he whispers, his face getting closer and closer to her face. "I—"

"CHUG!" Zay yells, slinging his arm around Josh's neck, not knowing what he's interrupted. "5 SECONDS, MATTHEWS!"

And he was all too happy to oblige. Maya rubs her head in disappointment.

"WOO!"

* * *

**GIN**

His friends said it was the fastest way to get drunk, and to get over a break-up.

What they didn't say is just how drunk he'll get.

So when he couldn't function anymore, Maya is the one who hauls him back to his apartment (with the help of Andrew, who leaves to get back to the party as soon as Josh's butt hits the couch).

She gives a once over at the drunken senior, barely conscious and in a daze, probably unaware that's he's already even home. The sight of him makes her tired, after the whole debauchery that occurred in the bar earlier, and the part where he jumps on a table almost screaming how he'll pay one round for every one there (no, he did not) and she's surprised he's kept all of his clothes on. Now she knows that gin is probably not the best fit for the college senior. She rubs her tired eyes and wipes the sweat drops forming on her forehead, deciding that it'd be best if she saw this night through.

It's surprising how she knew her way around the apartment Josh shared with Andrew, but it makes it easier to prepare the water, the wet towel and a change of clothes.

"Drink this," she says coolly, handing over the glass of water to Josh.

"No," he says without opening his eyes, pushing the glass away, almost spilling the water all over the blonde beauty. "I don't want any more gin."

She grunts, putting the water away, "It wasn't—".

Josh leans his head back, turning to face her with hazy eyes.

"Joshua Matthews! You're so annoying," she lowers her shoulders, frustrated.

"But also charming," he says with a wide grin, making his eyes squint tight.

"Which is often misunderstood as flirty," she corrects.

"I'm hardworking," he adds proudly.

"Borderline stubborn, but fine."

"I've always been understanding and patient."

"To a fault."

"Do you think that's why she left?" he asks casually.

This leaves her throat dry.

"All of that and I still wasn't enough for her," he says, surprising her, and maybe even himself. "Why'd she leave me, Maya?"

It was a question she wasn't prepared to answer.

"There's no right answer to that, Josh. And even if there is, it wouldn't be enough," her voice, sympathetic.

"There should be."

"Yes, there should."

He closes his eyes, taking a big inhale, as if getting ready to open them to a reality he didn't want to face.

"But you stayed," he says, finally opening his blue orbs.

She leans back her head on the back of the couch, imitating how he was positioned, facing him. "A decision I question every day."

"Thank you for staying," he says barely above a whisper.

She sighs, her voice dreamy. "I'll only tell you this because I'm sure your drunk ass, hung over face, and dense brain won't remember in the morning," she says, holding out her hand to cup his face. "I love you."

Her words make him smile, and he takes her hand from his face to give it a warm hold. She smiles back at him sadly before letting go of his touch to get back to the kitchen.

She doesn't hear him say, before he completely passes out, "I do too."

* * *

**RUM**

_**mayaaaaa**_

_**haaaaart**_

_**hunteeeer**_

_**WHAT DO YOU WANT MATTHEWS**_

He was drunk. And texting. He was drunk texting and his friends were doing nothing about it., but he'll address that fact in the morning.

_**where r u?**_

But she doesn't reply quickly enough causing him to do the one thing he probably shouldn't do at that state.

"Maya," his voice was raspy.

He hears her sigh on the other end of the line. _"Are you drunk?"_

"Well…" he bites his lips. "A little disoriented, yes."

She chuckles, and he's not sure if it's because she amused or annoyed. _"Sleep it off. Good night, Josh."_

"I miss you," he blurts out almost instantly, afraid she'll end the call if he didn't get a word in. It was slurred, and it was rushed, but he was pretty she heard him right.

There's a sigh that he hears. _"Because you need me to clean your mess again? What are you drinking this time, Boing? Is it rum? You only drunk text when you're drinking rum."_

"You doubt that I miss you?" he asks instead. "I'm quite offended."

"_You only miss me when you need me,"_ she corrects_. "You're needy, and I think you got that from Cory. I don't know how I ever got a crush on you when I was 14."_

"That's not true!" he says, feeling the need to defend himself, deciding honesty is the best way to go. "I miss you all the time."

He hears her swallow, but was too inebriated to calculate what he's hearing from her end.

"_You're just lonely. And drunk, and maybe overworked and underpaid,"_ she concludes, knowing he probably wouldn't say all these otherwise.

"I do miss you, Hunter."

"_Then come back,"_ she says softly, almost a whisper if it weren't for the fact that he was too focused on hearing her voice. _"Come back to New York."_

And he doesn't know if it's the heat from the alcohol he's consumed (Bacardi really does a number on him), or if it's in fact from having to be a thousand miles away from her and most of his family, or he's just lost control of himself, because suddenly he was feeling a little brave.

"I need to tell you something."

"_Yes, Josh?"_

"I think," he starts, pausing while he tries to get the word out. "Maya, I think… I l—"

Suddenly his voice was replaced by another that Maya isn't quite familiar with. "Sorry about that. Josh is too drunk to be calling someone right now, I will let him know he drunk called you in the morning so he can call you back."

He doesn't.

* * *

**WINE**

It was Christmas at the Matthews, and he wonders who had the stupid idea to class it up and forego the beer for wine.

He knows it's an acquired taste. Quite frankly, he has yet to acquire it.

But he makes do. Because he needs all the alcohol he can get when Maya brings a date to the festive gathering.

"You've had four glasses, Uncle Josh," a brunette plops down beside him on the couch. "And you if you keep staring you're going to burn a hole in the back of her head."

He clears his throat, "Staring? I don't know what you're talking about."

"They've only had a couple of dates," Riley answers the question he'd never ask out loud.

"So why'd she bring him to a family affair?"

"He doesn't have family in New York."

"So he comes here?"

"Maya thought it'd be nice if he had people to celebrate the holidays with."

"I didn't know we were in the business of picking up strays—ow!"

"You deserved that slap."

Josh rubs the part of his arm that was probably red underneath the sweater. "He doesn't even look like her type."

"And who's Maya's type, huh?" she dares him, raising her eyebrow.

He ignores her, instead saying, "What's with his hair?"

"What about it?"

"He looks like he was plucked out of a K-pop music video."

"Seems to be all the rage these days."

"I don't think he's wearing any socks," he points out, taking a sip of wine. "That's not very hygienic."

"He's probably wearing foot socks."

"He broke his tacos into pieces, and ate it like some kind of taco salad," he grunts. "What's up with that."

"Do you have some kind of monopoly on how tacos should be eaten?"

"And have you heard him talk?"

She slaps him again, earning her a scowl. "Okay, drunk and jealous isn't a good color on you."

"Me?" he turns to her, his hand over his chest, offended. "Jealous of him?"

The young Matthews rolls her eyes. "It's your fault, you know. You stayed away too long."

But he's back now.

* * *

**WHISKEY**

He probably shouldn't be there.

And his friends did try to stop him this time, in varying degrees and to no favorable outcome. But there he was, in front of the red door he knows so well, knocking like an obnoxious drunk (half of it was true to his current state) until she opened the door, an annoyed look plastered across her face.

"Josh," she says. "What are you doing here? At this time, I might add."

"Look, Maya," he starts, unsure how to continue. "I know me appearing at your doorstep at 2am is not what you expected, and I've been told that nothing good ever happens after 2am." He was wobbly, barely able to remain standing except that he's supported by the doorframe, and her arms are crossed, unimpressed and sleepy. "And yes, I am slightly… tipsy?"

She opens her mouth to say something snappy back, but he stops her.

"But!" he exclaims, his deep voice going a notch higher. "I am not leaving until you hear me out."

She sighs, tired. "Fine."

"You, Maya Hunter, I have known for more than half my life, and that's basically my entire lifetime. You were this annoying little kid, a little ferret, tied to the hip of my niece who wouldn't stop bugging me, and now I can't imagine what life would be like without you in it. And I don't know what it is – is it your infuriating charm or your unconditional sense of friendship? But I can't seem… I can't seem to shake you off. Tell me, Maya," he exhales her name in breathless wonder, his eyes wide eyed and boring into her for the first time since she's opened the door. "Tell me, why do I feel this way?"

He probably won't be able to tell you at which part she starts to blush at his words, not that he even noticed it, because all he can see is her deep blue eyes drowning him.

She bites her lip, "And what exactly is it that you feel, Josh?"

It was only then, at her question, that he gets to compose his posture, straightening up in front of her. "Can't you tell by now?"

"Say it."

He takes a deep breath. "Maya, I think," he begins, unsure. "I don't know when, but I… I…"

And there was this lurch in his stomach, climbing up to his throat, warm and chunky, and bitter and unpleasant, and suddenly his mouth was full so much so that he tried to push her away to a safe distance, but not in time.

It was a horrible sight, one he was lucky to not remember in the morning he wakes up, with all the whiskey he drank and the dinner that he had prior, suddenly splayed on the 'welcome' doormat of Maya and Riley's apartment, barely even readable. She moves back, in surprise and disgust, fearing she herself might hurl.

There was not much said after that, the young man passing out on her couch.

* * *

**TEQUILA**

"Fuck," he hisses. "I can't do it."

"Come on, Josh," says an exasperated Texan. "If not now, when?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, face mildly blushing, chest warm. Who knew tequila had so much kick, right? "How about, never?"

"Here," offers Zay, handing him a small glass of nearly golden liquid. "What's one more to calm the nerves?"

Josh doesn't hesitate, grabbing the shot glass from the young man's hand. "Give that to me."

He downs it in one gulp, foregoing the usual salt and lime combo, and slamming down the glass onto the bar table, hissing from the sudden heat that fills up his body, the cool air-conditioned room, nor the icy New York air, was not a match to the warmth he was feeling.

Farkle gives him a quizzical look, "So, can you do it now?"

He slowly exhales. "Yes," he offers. "Maybe."

"Let's go, Matthews," ushers Lucas. "This confession was years in the making. Do it now or forever hold your piece!"

"She's not getting married," Josh corrects.

Lucas rolls his eyes. "She might as well be with how slow you're moving."

"Fine."

So he turns around, away from the boys, and makes her way to the gorgeous blonde at the other end of Topanga's (they closed the bakery early to make way for a mini reunion, a celebration of sorts for those who just graduated that semester) where she was having a chat with Riley and Isadora.

"Maya," he calls her name when he's reached their small circle, and they all look to him with curious eyes, and he would have run back if it wasn't for the control he's given up to the alcohol in exchange for some mental courage. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

The two girls turn to Maya who raises a perfectly shaped brow. "Sounds ominous," she jokes, smiling, and it's enough to make him sure.

"Please?"

She excuses herself from her friends who immediately whisper as soon as she leaves them. They make their way outside, to the smaller tables on the empty patio, and pick one farthest from the entrance, out of sight.

"So," she offers, sitting on the table instead of the picnic chair, and he standing in front of her, careful not to hover. "What did you want to talk about?"

He puffs out his chest, trying to match the confidence the tequila was giving him. "I haven't had the best track record with this, or rather, I haven't had the best track record with you."

The guilt in his tone is strangely pronounced, and he hopes she hasn't noticed his will slightly wavering under her scrutinizing eyes.

"But I'm going to tell you now," Josh says, determined. "Because I'm scared I might keep passing up my chances and run out, that you'll stop hearing me out even when I have nothing to say, and that you'll really find someone whom you'll fall in love with and bring to family gatherings as a permanent date, and that you'll forget about me, and mainly because I don't know when the effect of this alcohol will wear off, so I have to tell you now—"

"Wait," she interrupts, holding out a perfectly manicured finger to his lips, surprising him. "Are you going to puke on me again?"

He blanches at the memory (which he doesn't quite remember, but one which she and his nephew enjoyed telling him). "No."

She looks at him dubiously. "Are you going to pass out?"

He considers his current state. "No."

"Is someone going to come out to pour you tequila or hijack your speech?"

"Oh god, I hope not."

She pauses, looking at him, searching. "Are you going to remember this tomorrow?"

"For the rest of my life," he says sincerely. "Depending on your answer, I suppose."

This makes her chuckle, rolling her eyes.

"Okay. Continue."

He clears his throat, fixing his posture as if he was to make the biggest presentation of his life to the only audience that mattered. "Maya, I like you, and maybe even in love with you, I think, I don't know. But when I'm with you, I never want you to leave, and when you're not all I do is miss you. So," he breathes, looking at her as she intently listens to him. "Will you go out with me?"

There was a silence he's not sure how long it lasted, but he was sure his heart was pounding the whole time, and it might not entirely be the alcohol's doing.

That is, until, finally she smiles, the cheeky smile he knows now he's always loved. "Took you long enough."

And it was enough to make him grin from ear to ear, as he leans down to meet her grin in a long overdue kiss.


End file.
